SOR Sidestory: A Dragonball in Nerima
by Grey Wolf1
Summary: During the events of the "Specter of Revenge" storyline, Piccolo and Sailor Neptune have returned to present-day Earth in search of the Dragonballs. Unfortunately for Piccolo, his particular search will cross paths with a certain cursed martial artist...
1. Prologue: In the Crosshairs

Specter of Revenge Sidestory: A Dragonball in Nerima

Author's Note: Before you continue, I should point out that the set-up for this story might not make sense unless you've read up to the end of Chapter 14 of 'Specter of Revenge,' my Dragonball Z/Sailor Moon crossover story. This has NO bearing on the main storyline of that fanfic. I also do not own Ranma ½ or Dragonball Z or Sailor Moon, just this storyline which they are involved.

Prologue: In the Crosshairs

Grateful as Piccolo was for the brief rest period within the safe walls of Capsule Corporation, he was glad that he could finally get back to pursuing their objective – considering the amount of distance that they might've had to cover in the search for the Dragonballs, it was wise not to waste any time dawdling in luxuries while their comrades were still entrenched in the war zone.

As Piccolo stared thoughtfully into the blipping Dragon Radar, he did hope that this contribution to the war effort would be well worth the trouble they would be going through to claim the seven Dragonballs. From what he had learned during his brief stay within the future era, the five Sailor Soldiers that the alien army had decimated shortly before the arrival of the Z Warriors seemed to be revered and highly honored in Crystal Tokyo, heroines many times more than Piccolo or any of his fellow warriors may ever have been. He would have to inquire more into the specific aspects of the princesses to his current partner in the hunt.

Sailor Neptune – once again in her transformed state – was currently securing a small leather carrying case on the front lawn of the facility. Normally, Piccolo would've objected to the extra baggage of the cumbersome violin on such a long journey, but he did have to admit that her skill with the instrument was superb – it had done much to alleviate his churning senses of concern the previous evening. Having it along could've made the trip more pleasant, and even if he commanded her to leave the violin behind, she more than likely wouldn't have listened to him anyway.

_Let's see..._

The nearest Dragonballs to the Capsule Corporation building were remarkably close to each other, only separated by several dozen miles, and for that Piccolo was very thankful. It was another sliver of good luck in a miniature series of it as of late. He didn't mind it, but he feared that too much of it would've made it doubly disappointing once worse karma found its way back to them.

As he studied the locations carefully, Neptune sauntered over to him, the loaded beige violin case clutched in one hand.

"Well, teacher?" She piped; Piccolo didn't look up. "What brilliant course of action do you advise?"

He sighed a bit – her cynicism was truly beginning to grate on him. Fortunately, he did have a decent plan in mind.

"Considering the proximity of these two, it would be best if we separated, one of us going after each," He showed her the blipping gold dots on the circular device. "The southern most Dragonball is in the foothills just outside of this city, and the other is far north, in the old city of Tokyo. I suggest that you take the closer one while I fly to the north."

Neptune faltered, shooting him an annoyed look and putting a free arm on her hip.

"And what makes you qualified to take the easy road out?" She grumbled.

"I'm faster in the air than you are," he explained dryly. "I can reach Tokyo in a matter of a few hours. And besides..." He passed her an almost malicious grin. "...you can use the experience. It may be a welcome change from the soft life within the safe confines of the Crystal Tokyo Palace. You may have to rely on Nature to provide you with sustenance and shelter for a time should it come down to that. It'll harden you a bit, add to your effectiveness in battle."

"Oh, thank you for the genuine concern for my well-being," Neptune shook her head with exasperation, sarcasm oozing out of her voice. As seconds passed however, a mischievous grin crept onto her face. "Not that it matters in the long run; I'm no stranger to the rugged outdoors as you would believe. You on the other hand..."

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled a bit.

"Well, considering your appearance and mannerisms, I don't think you're quite accustomed to life within a city like Tokyo, am I right?"

Piccolo paused at that one; true, his primary living grounds had always been the natural world, far away from the overly tangled web of civilization that the humans had spun, but that much was not about to dissuade him. If nothing else, his plan would save their journey time, and that was what mattered.

"...You would again be correct, but we have no time to be picky about this. We can have nearly a third of our quota within the next few days if we proceed. Besides, how different can human culture be within the walls of a place like Tokyo? You forget that a number of my comrades come from similar backgrounds, and I have had more than enough patience for them in the past."

"True...but I think you're going to be in for a surprise," Neptune chided him with a sly smirk. "As one who doesn't understand much about human culture from what you say, you may be the one who gains more out of this than me, and not all of it will be pleasant, I guarantee it."

Piccolo simply tossed the Dragon Radar to her, ignoring the commentary.

"Take it," He said. "I have enough of an idea where to look for the Dragonball."

"You're certain?" Neptune looked a bit surprised.

"If something unexpected occurs, I can always find you without much trouble," Piccolo reasoned. "Though I doubt it will be necessary. Let's meet back here once we locate our targets."

"If you insist; you're the teacher," Neptune spun on her heel and started away from him, throwing back one childish glance. "Have fun, and don't take candy from strangers while you're in Tokyo!"

_If only I didn't need her, I'd close that mouth of hers..._ He wondered how Sailor Uranus dealt with the woman's excessive witty chatter considering her fiery temper.

He shook his head before propelling himself into the air and rocketing away in the early morning sky. Once he arrived in Tokyo, his search couldn't have taken him too terrible long – he was willing to bet that he would have the Dragonball by nightfall depending on circumstances. Bulma's generous monetary donations to both him and Sailor Neptune would help him provide himself with sustenance just in case.

Sailor Neptune's childish warnings kept echoing within his head despite his best efforts to banish them. As far as she was concerned, he would be as helpless as a frail child within Tokyo, which only annoyed him further. How inept and incapable did she take him to be? He'd been there during the battles between their forces and some of the most powerful overlords in the Universe, he'd transcended life and death, and he'd dealt with more chicanery from Lord Kaio, Yamcha, and Krillin alone than he would've liked. What possible harm could a series of hours within a human settlement be?

He picked up speed, mulling over the exact section of Tokyo that Bulma had pointed out to them prior to their departure. She'd said that the Dragonball rested there somewhere.

_Ah, yes...the Nerima District. This is going to be too easy..._

* * *

Nobody would've ever suspected a place as insignificant - at least, when compared to the rest of Japan - as Nerima to be a breeding ground for spectacular martial artists, but the events of the past few years had proven otherwise. Nerima had been the staging grounds for a few very prolific grudges, and some of its high schools had acquired notorious reputations for being nothing more than gigantic battlefields for some of its eccentric fighters.

Ranma Saotome should've known that much - he'd had his share of competition, through martial arts or otherwise, within Nerima since he and his father Genma had moved there some time ago. What had begun as a forced engagement to Akane Tendo - the youngest daughter of one of Genma Saotome's closest friends - had turned into a fast-paced mish-mash of adventures that had tested every last one of his reflexes and skills, giving him countless opportunities to improve himself.

Such improvement now made his current encounter seem more like a walk in the park than it actually was.

It had begun in a relatively ordinary manner - a heavyweight, muscular man, Spopovitch, had appeared at the door of the Tendo family dojo, boasting and guffawing in a vulgar manner about how he'd manhandled the best fighters of the last nine dojos he'd visited. He'd literally spat a challenge to any member of the Tendo dojo in the hopes of making the total a gleaming ten. Ever the vigorous showman, and after some enraging chiding by Spopovitch, Ranma had gladly taken the challenge.

Fortunately, his current performance was showing that his recent training was paying off in spades – twenty minutes into the match, the muscle-bound lummox still hadn't managed to even graze the agile Ranma.

In his mind, Ranma certainly wasn't an arrogant person by any means - whatever pride he did show in his achievements was almost always well-earned - but as the dark-haired youth slipped deftly under another spinning kick from his burly opponent, he did allow a small smirk to cross his face. He'd seen the attack coming before the balding gorilla had even executed it - Ranma had read his muscle movements quickly and precisely, realized what was coming, and had pulled off a quick dodging maneuver all in the span of a few seconds. This was truly becoming too easy.

The muscular fighter across from Ranma swore loudly as he drew his leg back, at the same time pulling back one meaty fist for a powerful hook that could've easily taken his head off. Before he could finish the motion, however, Ranma was already moving, bounding backward in a somersault motion that carried him to the rear of the large dojo, nearly backing him up against the wall.

He dropped into a defensive posture as the heavyweight let his shoulders slump slightly. His tank top was drenched in his own sweat, and his cheeks were growing bright red as he let out monstrous heaves of air. As Ranma observed his trembling knees, he could sense that the behemoth was ready to be taken out - he'd been so eager to drop Ranma in one powerful blow that he'd exhausted all of his energy in a matter of minutes.

"You...you speedy little rat..." Spopovitch huffed as Ranma almost casually folded his arms. "Are you just going to dodge me all day...or are you going to stand toe-to-toe with me, like a man!"

"Hey, if you insist..." He tensed his forearms, gingerly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he glanced off to the side of the dojo. "Certainly wouldn't want to disappoint the home crowd."

From outside the matted ring, Ranma's father and the entire Tendo family were watching the match with anticipation. The Tendo patriarch Soun seemed pleased with the performance of the heir to the Anything-Goes Style martial arts school, and Genma passed his son an approving nod, a rarity for the old man.

Soun's three daughters, on the other hand, were indifferent to much of the spectacle - Kasumi had such a low-key demeanor that Ranma had never seen her excited over more than the meals she always cooked for the family. Nabiki Tendo's interest in fighting was almost nonexistent; she'd come to the match on her father's request, but if Soun hadn't asked, Ranma knew she'd be anywhere but the gym at the moment.

And then there was his would-be fiancé, Akane, who'd come late to the spectacle for some odd reason. She was currently rolling her eyes in Ranma's direction as he mockingly shadow-boxed in the direction of the goliath to add a bit of fuel to the dying fire.

_Is there nothing I can do to put a smile on her face?_

Not that Ranma particularly cared – despite living with each other for some time, Ranma and Akane still vehemently rejected the idea of marrying despite their fathers' wishes to the contrary. On a good day for both parties, he might've considered Akane a friend, but their personalities and other circumstances led to them severely butting heads on a normal basis - and their fathers expected them to survive as a married couple?

"Alright..." The burly fighter squatted down, preparing a raging charge toward the confident Ranma. "...There's not going to be enough of you left to fill a teaspoon when I get done with you!"

Grunting heavily, Spopovitch broke into a lumbering sprint toward him. Ranma braced himself, attempting to discern which direction to counter-attack the titan - his blind charge tactic didn't leave much room to prevent a reprisal. Ranma decided to get creative.

"Say your prayers, you...!" The behemoth spat as he swung wildly toward Ranma's head. The youth hesitated momentarily – it drew a slight gasp of surprise from Akane – ducking so late that the monstrous blow clipped a bit of his short black hair. Undaunted, Ranma followed up with a fluid motion, dropping onto his back and swinging his right leg into the giant's ribs. A satisfying crunch along with a loud grunt of pain from the larger fighter brought a smile to Ranma's face, and he followed up the motion by coiling both of his legs and releasing them in a quick thrust, catching the giant square in the stomach.

Spopovitch stumbled backward, and Ranma kipped to his feet, sensing victory was within his grasp. Charging power into his solid arms, he executed a vast barrage of punches onto the dazed goliath's midsection, each blow rock-solid. Within seconds, the once-arrogant opponent was spitting up blood onto the matting, and he was struggling to breathe as Ranma poured on the attack.

"And here comes the big finish!" Ranma bounded upward again, this time toward the stunned man. Concentrating his leg muscles into one powerful thrust, Ranma's feet connected squarely on the man's jaw, sending him tumbling over onto the mat like a flesh-covered redwood. Gracefully dropping down onto the balls of his feet, Ranma bowed courteously toward his audience - he deserved some applause after that performance.

"You still have a ten count, you know," Akane murmured toward him as Ranma lifted his head.

"Ten seconds?" Ranma glanced toward his fallen opponent, shaking his head mirthfully as he observed the lummox's glazed eyes and blood-spattered lips. "He won't be getting up for ten minutes. I'd say the victory's mine, and a flawless one to boot."

"Congratulations, Ranma," Kasumi smiled as she took a look at the clock. "Oh, my, it's getting late; I'd better start dinner."

As Kasumi departed, Soun began to administer the ten second count to the challenger, though he looked quite certain that the man wasn't going to be answering it anytime soon. As he hovered over the giant, calling out the numbers loudly, Ranma sauntered over to Akane, his spirits high as he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. The short-haired girl didn't look impressed.

"Ah, come on, you gotta give me some credit for those moves - when was the last time you pulled off a combination like that in one of our matches?" Ranma asked.

"He nearly had you with that last charge," Akane informed him, observing Ranma's disheveled hair. "One punch would've been all he needed, and I wouldn't have had much sympathy for you if you'd stood there and gotten plastered by it."

Ranma threw up his hands - truly, this girl was a test in patience.

"Hey, I KOed him, didn't I?" He offered. "What's with you anyway, tomboy? You're acting more uncute than you usually do today."

Nabiki suddenly sauntered in between the two as Akane's face flared up in anger. Akane's older sister wore a mischievous smirk on her face, which unnerved Ranma; considering Nabiki's reputation as an extortionist and con artist, he didn't like seeing such a look on her face.

"Why, Akane, I didn't expect to see you here," The exaggeration within her voice was obvious, and it possessed a bit of bite to it. "Was the pool closed today?"

"No," Akane turned her back to Ranma, her voice more venomous as she opened the door to the dojo and walked outside. "The person that was supposed to meet me there never showed, so I just decided to come back here...and watch the fights instead."

Ranma froze, his heart jumping as his mouth dropped open. Suddenly, his plans for that afternoon came flooding back into his mind – he'd promised Akane a few swim lessons at the school gym.

Now that he remembered it clearly, he'd been on his way out the door when Spopovitch had shown up. The intruder had nearly plowed through Ranma as he'd stormed inside the Tendo house, and he'd proceeded to ramble and rave for nearly a half hour about his incredible prowess, refusing to leave the dojo until his challenge was answered. Ranma had stuck around and endured the brute guffawing brashly toward Soun and Genma, but when the insults turned his way – Spopovitch had effectively crossed the line when he'd called Ranma a 'girly-looking child' – the heir to the Anything-Goes Style had offered to take matters into his own hands, much to the relief of the then-nervous Genma and Soun. And thus, Akane had been inadvertently banished from his mind in favor of a battle. Despite Ranma's realization of his former plans, no forgiveness seemed forthcoming from his fiancé as she angrily stormed back to the house. Even Nabiki was silently shaking her head at the grave error.

It was too late to correct such a mistake - Soun was just finishing the ten counts on the beaten titan. Ranma still had to collect his spoils of war and send the boasting Spopovitch on his merry way - he'd find some way to make his carelessness to Akane a bit later; frustrating as she was, he did feel guilty about the oversight.

"Hey, you win some, you lose some, eh, lover boy?" Nabiki snickered toward him, passing a glance toward Ranma's stunned opponent. "I know my sister's a bit of a hot-head, but I would think you'd still prefer her to a sweaty, brainless moron like him."

For once, Ranma chose not to respond to Nabiki's quips. As much as the blame for other people's problems usually found its way back to Ranma during his time in Nerima, even he really had nobody to blame but himself for this one. There was no sense trying to talk his way out of it.

_Still…_ Ranma passed an irritated glance toward the departing tomboy. _It's not _that _big of a deal…she'd have done the same thing in my position._

It took Spopovitch several minutes to recover from Ranma's deathblow combination. In a small sign of hospitality to a downed foe, even as one as brash and boisterous as Spopovitch, Soun and Genma helped clean the blood off his body and gave him a jug of water to replenish himself.

When he'd finally come to his senses, he shot a venomous glare toward Ranma, who was standing idly by with a satisfied smile on his face. The big oaf certainly wasn't boasting the same arrogance he'd displayed before his trouncing by the young Saotome.

"You…" He growled, his muscles tensing so noticeably that Ranma thought he might rush him again. "You fought dirty…! I thought we agreed on no hits below the belt! Only cowards do that!"

"What're you talking about, you moron! I cracked your ribs, clear as day! I wasn't even close to giving you a low blow!" Losing fighters that made up excuses annoyed Ranma to no end – as many rivals as Ranma had accumulated over recent months, at least a few of them acknowledged defeat instead of pinning their shortcomings on cheating. "And I'll crack another one if you don't cough up the prize money!"

That caused the brute to shrink back a bit; he obviously knew that he was no match for Ranma, and engaging the young martial artist in a temper-tantrum brawl after losing an honorable match could've brought Genma and Soun in against him – stern gazes from both seasoned veterans of the Anything-Goes Style confirmed those fears.

"A…alright…fine…I won't be able to eat tonight because of you, punk; but staying honorable even against cowards like you has its virtues…" Spopovitch stumbled back to his gigantic pack – Ranma noticed that he was still clutching those injured ribs, another sign that he was still making up excuses – and as the goliath swore and grumbled toward Ranma under his breath, he produced a stack of green-tinted bills from the leather satchel. He grudgingly slapped them on the ground before slinging the pack over his shoulder and tromping toward the door without a word.

"Hold it!" Nabiki suddenly cried, pointing an accusing finger toward Spopovitch. "You're short, blockhead."

"You accusing me of being a thief now!" Spopovitch howled, motioning to the stack of money on the floor. "The cash is in zenni, not yen. That stuff's worth more than your pitiful currency!"

"Nevertheless…" Nabiki scooped up the stack of bills from the ground, and with amazing speed, she counted through them, adding up the totals in a matter of seconds. "We agreed on ten thousand yen to the winner, and after the exchange rates, that should be five thousand zenni owed to us. You've got three thousand here, bright boy. That's two thousand left unpaid in case you couldn't do the math."

"Only…three…!" Spopovitch sputtered. "How could…how could you possibly know that!"

"I'm never in the dark when it comes to money," Nabiki replied proudly as she dropped the stacks to the wooden floor. "Either you cough up two thousand more zenni or--"

"But that's all I had!" He stammered, looking more and more nervous. "I didn't…expect to lose, you know…"

"You're not very good at this sort of thing, are you?" Nabiki scoffed. "I guess Ranma here will have to beat the rest out of you."

_Yeesh, what am I, a collection agent for the Japanese mob all of a sudden?_ Ranma snuffed at Nabiki's words. While he hated being cheated and lied to by any opponent, Genma and Soun seemed to take more offense than him at Spopovitch bilking them out of a decent portion of their winnings.

"What else do you have in that bag of yours, anyway?" Genma demanded, cracking his knuckles. Ranma didn't see much of a reason why his old man should've been so upset – Genma had developed a reputation as a thief and con man in his own right whenever it suited him. Seeing his father demanding a thief to pay up his debts nearly made Ranma laugh out loud – he wondered if his old man simply wanted to relish in being on the other side of the equation for a change.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second…" Sensing a violent retribution coming his way, Spopovitch hastily dug through his bag; he seemed increasingly anxious as he could find nothing of value within his possessions, but his eyes lit up as he finally drew out a glimmering fist-sized jewel. "Ah, here we go!"

The other occupants of the dojo reacted with surprise at the treasure – from what Ranma could tell, it was a perfectly polished gold-shaded jewel with a quartet of identically shaped red stars emblazoned in its center. The sunlight peeking through the dojo windows reflected off of the artifact, giving it a mystical sheen.

"What is that…?" Soun wondered, his eyes twinkling.

"You know what this is?" Spopovitch snickered as he held the ball aloft. "I got it from an old man at one of the last dojos I visited; it's a piece of some ancient puzzle – all I know is that if you figure out how to complete the puzzle, something glorious will happen! Let me go, and it's all yours…!"

"Let me see that," Nabiki hurried over and snatched the jewel from Spopovitch's hand, examining the gold- tinted surface of the jewel with a careful eye. "This material is nothing I've ever seen before…looks valuable enough though."

"Alright, fine…" Soun gave a dismissive nod as he collected the stacks of zenni off the dojo floor. "Just don't come around here causing trouble again; you're no match for anyone here."

"Yeah, yeah, shut your trap, old man…" He slung the satchel over his shoulders and hurried out the door. "I'll be back someday to pound that little squirt's head into mush, so enjoy things while you can, losers!"

With that, the lummox was gone; good riddance as far as Ranma was concerned.

"Something that not even you've seen before?" Ranma joined Nabiki in examining the jewel. "That's a first; this's got to be super-rare."

Nabiki passed the orb into Ranma's hands.

"Or completely worthless, one of the two," She added. "You know I don't waste my time learning about stupid trinkets, Ranma. But who knows, it might be possible – I doubt that brainless sap had the foresight to concoct such a deception spur of the moment like that."

"Piece of an ancient puzzle, huh?" Ranma observed the jewel carefully. There was no inscription anywhere on the surface of the ball, nor was there was any indication of who made it or what to do with it. The more Ranma thought about it, the more he began to wonder if they'd gotten scammed. "I wonder…"

"Well, I certainly have an idea of what to do with it," Soun cheerfully suggested. "Because of this fight, a rift has grown between you and Akane."

"You mean a bigger rift…" Ranma mumbled. "Come on, I forgot about her, but I defended the dojo, right? I couldn't just back down once he called me girly-looking…you guys should understand that."

"No offense, Ranma," Nabiki laughed one last time as she headed out the door. "But that's not anything new around here. I didn't think you'd take it so personally."

Ranma rolled his eyes at the commentary – despite having lived with his cursed body for some time, he never adjusted to the perverted remarks he would get regarding his…other half. Nabiki had profited from his curse on numerous occasions, so much so that Ranma was inclined to avoid cold water as much as possible around the middle Tendo daughter – once he got splashed and transformed into his more petite girl form, Nabiki usually viewed it as a photo opportunity for her money-making schemes…

"As I was saying," Soun continued as his daughter departed. "Your boldness has enraged your fiancé, and she does have a taste for jewelry. This can be just the thing to clear up your foolish little indiscretion."

"He's right, son," Genma agreed, folding his arms and looking haughty. "Eagerness of a martial artist to fight is one thing, but doing so at the expense of others…"

"Would be something you would do if it suited you, pop," Ranma grumbled in annoyance as he snared the jug of water off the floor and splashed its remaining contents onto Genma. Contact with the water immediately brought forth Genma's cursed body, that of a monstrously-sized and humorless panda. "Come on, I just defended _your _dojo! Don't I get some congratulations for my trouble! I didn't exactly see either of you two jumping up to fight off that moron…both of you were practically shaking when he was going on and on…"

A pair of fists on Ranma's head ended the diatribe, and he clutched the ball tightly in one hand and stomped toward the door.

"Okay, okay, fine, I'll do it…" He responded to the stern gazes. "That tomboy better appreciate this…"


	2. Chapter 1: Enter the Demon Lord

Chapter 1: Enter the Demon Lord

_Ranma, you jerk! Ranma, you jerk!_

Outside the dojo on the expansive lawn of the Tendo house, Akane delivered a harsh roundhouse kick that knocked the straw-stuffed practice dummy off of its perch. The battered target sailed several feet backward onto the grass. As Akane dropped her stance, she let out a satisfied breath. Practicing against the straw opponent was one of her favorite stress relievers – no matter how much frustration had built up within her at the end of a day, a vigorous workout like this one was usually enough to work out all of her aggression.

Today, however, was one of the few times that even pounding on the training dummy couldn't release all of her anger – this afternoon had been a golden opportunity to conquer one of her biggest challenges: being able to swim. For all of her strength, speed, and intensity that outdid even the strongest jocks at her school, Akane had never been able to get out of the shallow end of the swimming pool, and staying above water even then had proven a difficult task at times. In a rare moment of generosity and compassion, her would-be fiancé had promised her a swimming lesson; while Akane felt uncomfortable being indebted to Ranma for anything, she had found herself grateful and even looking forward to spending that time with him, learning from him.

Naturally, Ranma had found a way to screw it up. He always did.

Standing her up at the gym's pool had been one thing, but coming home to find Ranma duking it out with a wayward wrestler had been even more disheartening and enraging at the same time. That she'd actually had faith in Ranma to keep her on his priority list for just this one time made her feel all the more naïve now.

_Maybe I should just go give him a piece of my mind…yeah, that might make me feel better._

Wiping away some sweat from her forehead and pushing her short blue hair out of her eyes, she marched purposefully back toward the house where Ranma was probably lounging around, reveling arrogantly in his recent victory…he'd bragged to his father all about how easily he'd obliterated the brash challenger all during dinner. It had been enough to nearly make her smash the dinner table over his head even harder than she usually did.

As she entered through the back door of the house, Akane sighed, her anger degenerating a bit into a sad frustration.

"He can smile all day whenever he's fighting someone, but he can't even say 'good morning' during breakfast…" She grumbled. "Does he really hate me that--"

"Yo, Akane!" A sudden voice from behind her made her yelp in surprise; she instantly whirled and smacked Ranma on the forehead with her fist as her heart raced. Her fiancé stumbled backward, cursing and clutching his forehead with one free hand. "Hey, what the hell was that for! I was just coming around the corner; I didn't know you were standing there!"

That gave Akane a bit of relief – at first, she'd been afraid and embarrassed that he'd overheard her emotional musings. She caught her breath – thankfully, there was no danger of that. The arrogant Ranma would never let her live that humiliation down.

"Sorry, I just got done working out, I'm a little bit tense," She replied as she removed her yellow headband. "Besides, since when do you come looking for me, anyway? You obviously have better things to do with your time than worry about me."

"Any other time, I'd agree with you…" Ranma snorted nonchalantly; that was an open invitation for Akane to angrily snare him by the throat. She was about to clobber him across his idiotic face when Ranma suddenly thrust a shimmering golden jewel in her direction. Akane's eyes shifted onto the object, and her arms loosened. Her fiancé seized the opportunity to break away from her grip.

"Yeesh, you say tense, I say psychotic," The comment slipped out of Ranma's mouth, but Akane found herself too mesmerized by the star-covered jewel in Ranma's hand to notice. The boy relinquished his grip on it, and the girl grabbed hold, examined the relic almost eagerly.

"It's so pretty…" She smiled. "Where in the world did you get this?"

Ranma seemed almost shocked by the attitude shift, and his hostilities froze up into timidity.

"Well, ah, I got it, I mean won it, from that blockhead earlier…you know, I didn't steal it or nothing like you might think…" He forced a small chuckle, and his gaze seemed to drift away from Akane, his eyes focusing behind her. His voice also grew a bit more wooden. "He couldn't pay up the losing end, so he gave that little what's-it to me instead. And since it was my fault that I took the fight instead of my beautiful fiancé…"

If ever there was a strange comment coming from Ranma, that one was it. Akane's eyes snapped away from the jewel and toward her fiancé; she stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Wh-what was…that?" She noticed the far-away look in his eyes, and she waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you catching a fever or something?"

"What the…!" Ranma's eyes grew wide. "Aw, no way am I saying that to her, old man! I'll take it myself from here!"

Akane whirled to where Ranma's eyes were focused, and she frowned as she spotted Uncle Genma in his panda form hiding in the yard, presenting an exact script of what Ranma had just said to her on a gigantic wooden sign. A mischievous grin was on his large face, and as Akane's eyes fell upon the remainder of the script, she felt herself turning red in embarrassment – those were words that would make the poetically-minded Kuno blush.

She quickly swung the door closed, blocking Ranma's father from view.

"Are you…" Akane directed her wrath in Ranma's direction as the flustered boy attempted to recover. "…trying to make a fool out of me!"

"Wait a second, Akane! Just this once!" He stammered with his hands raised defensively. "I still meant it!"

That gave Akane pause, and Ranma took advantage of the delay, probably to save his own skin.

"I, I mean, I still want you to have it," He finally managed, motioning to the golden orb. "I, I know that you, you know, kinda have this thing for jewelry, and since I missed out on the swimming lesson because of that moron Spopovitch, well…it yours, if you want it."

Akane found herself stunned, still not knowing whether to hit Ranma for his recent stunt or to hug him. She dismissed the latter thought almost immediately, but still, it had been an uncharacteristic show of remorse and humility, especially for a proud fighter like Ranma. He'd also actually given her something she'd liked for a change…she expected presents from Ranma's rival, Ryoga, not from her pig-headed fiancé.

As she considered the gift, Ranma had turned his head away, attempting to appear relaxed but coming off as nervous and fidgety. As Akane examined her reflection in the beautifully polished jewel, she smiled at it – she supposed she could forgive him this time.

"Err, I…thanks," She replied uneasily, looking to change the subject in case Ranma really did get sappy as his father seemed to have intended. "But…But what was a guy like Spopovitch doing with this kind of treasure in the first place? He didn't seem like the jewelry collecting type."

Ranma shrugged his shoulders; he also appeared grateful that the conversation flow had shifted.

"He said he'd gotten it from this other dojo he'd messed up," Ranma explained. "He said something interesting about it – it was part of some ancient puzzle or something. If we figure out the rest, something great's supposed to happen."

Akane stared at the crimson colored stars on the jewel's surface, pondering the cryptic message.

"Well, there's nothing written on here, no ancient language, no hieroglyphs, nothing that would give us a clue…you sure he just wasn't making this up?"

"I'm actually getting pretty close to that conclusion myself," Ranma shook his head. "For all we know, it could just be some trinket he passed off as some kind of god's treasure to get out of paying the losing fee…but, I think I know a way we can find out for certain."

Ranma's eyes had lit up, an idea dawning on him.

"What are you thinking?" Akane wondered.

"If this is a treasure, and it's supposed to be ancient, then the old ghoul at the Cat Café would probably be the only person that would have any idea about it. I mean, who better epitomizes ancient than her?"

Akane had to concede to Ranma's sudden burst of wisdom – while she would've been content searching for the identity of the jewel in a library book, the old Chinese woman that ran the Cat Café had made no secret of her extraordinary age, and during her lifetime, she had accumulated a remarkable collection of mystical oddities, some of which both Ranma and Akane had been victims of on occasion.

"It's worth a shot…" Akane agreed. "Besides, I'd rather not find out later that this thing carries some kind of curse that'll kill all of us."

"Then let's head down!" Ranma cheerily suggested. "I haven't had any of Shampoo's ramen in a long time anyway. I could go for a full plate – Kasumi cooked too light tonight!"

Akane passed her unsuspecting fiancé an irritated glare – despite Ranma stating time and again that he wanted nothing to do with his second self-proclaimed fiancé, he always seemed eager to kiss up to Shampoo for a plate of ramen if it suited him. The Chinese Amazon girl, on the other hand, couldn't keep her hands off of Ranma whenever she was around him. Neither of the two seemed to understand that she found the affectionate display disgusting…

"Something wrong, Akane?" Ranma asked; his naiveté to her irritation was apparent.

"I certainly hope not once we get there," Akane grabbed her fiancé's shirt sleeve and dragged him toward the door.

* * *

It wasn't very often that Ukyo set time aside for special occasions – aside from her birthday and the major holidays throughout the year, taking too much time off for personal reasons took away from time at her restaurant, and that meant less money for her to live off of. She was proud of her appreciation of her tenuous economic state – while many other people that she knew wasted their cash or were flat broke most of the time, Ukyo considered herself a fiercely independent woman that could easily care for herself under tense situations. In only her teen years, she felt she had surpassed even some of the adults she knew in terms of maturity and knowing what she had to do in order to make a decent living. 

But tonight was a rare occurrence.

She'd closed the restaurant early, shooing the last patrons of the usual dinner rush out the door along with the rest of their meals. She was alone at the stainless steel okonomiyaki grill that stretched a generous length of the room, preparing a special surprise for her fiancé. The dough was perfect, just the right firmness, just the right temperature. She was now ready to personalize it as only she could.

"To my darling Ranma," She spoke the words out loud as she inscribed them on the finished dough using her sauce. "To think, tonight one year ago, I came here and we got back together after all those years apart. This is for my wonderful fiancé…"

There was so much more that she wanted to write, but the space on the plate-sized okonomiyaki simply wasn't there. Not that it mattered – she was proud enough of her work. She was almost embarrassed of the uncharacteristic sweetness she'd used for the message; she normally despised that level of sappiness in anything. But Ranma generally brought that feminine side out of her more than anybody…

_Speaking of which…_ She took a glance at the clock. _Where is he? He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago… _

She'd briefly chatted with Ranma in school earlier that day about coming by that evening for something she'd wanted to give him – to lessen suspicion of a romantic encounter, which Ranma traditionally avoided like a plague, she'd said it was something small and she'd 'forgotten' to bring it to school that morning. While he'd seemed distracted from his usual morning brawl with Tatewaki Kuno, he'd quickly promised her that he would come by.

_Maybe Akane caught wind of it…_ Ukyo scowled as the image of the ever-jealous tomboy surface. Perhaps Ranma had been on his way out the door when Akane had clobbered him unconscious, halting any kind of chance for romance between Ranma and Ukyo out of her usual spousal envy.

There was one way to find out – as she put the finishing touches on her okonomiyaki, she stepped over to the phone and dialed the Tendo residence.

Okonomiyaki : Japanese pizza

* * *

They'd almost stepped out the door when Akane and Ranma heard Kasumi calling for them. When they'd gone back into the living room to find out what was going on, the eldest Tendo daughter informed them that Ukyo was on the phone; at the mention of his third fiancé's name, Ranma felt his blood freeze. 

"She wanted to know when you would be coming down," Kasumi went on as Ranma's eyes widened. "She said you promised to see her tonight; she was wondering if anything was wrong."

While Kasumi didn't say it outright, her gaze and downcast tone of voice reflected her opinion of Ranma's most recent oversight – indeed, he had promised Ucchan that he'd stop by the restaurant tonight, even if he'd lightly agreed to it while fending off sword strikes from Kuno.

"Well, well…" Akane was more visibly disappointed, angrily staring down the floundering Ranma. "Yet another irresponsible promise from the master. And what exactly does Ukyo want to give you that's important enough for a private invitation, huh?"

"Hey, hang on a second!" Ranma went on the defensive again. "She said it was something small, nothing important! This'll only take a second, just meet me down at the Cat Café and wait until I get there."

"You think I'm going to let you go by yourself after what I just heard!" Akane shouted. "How stupid do you think I am, you scum!"

Ranma backed away from his fiancé, beads of sweat rolling down the back of his neck – how was it that he managed to agitate Akane almost every fifteen minutes he was around her! It was beyond belief what she could take out of context…still, if ever he was in need of some type of distraction…

"Oh, Akane…" Nabiki sauntered past all of them, casually flipping through a magazine. "I could've sworn that I saw old Happosai sneaking up toward your room a few minutes ago…he had a large bag in his hand, and I didn't exactly like that little smirk he had…"

"What!" Akane growled, storming past Ranma and up the stairs. "If that old pervert thinks he's going through my underwear drawer again, he's got another thing coming!"

As Akane disappeared from sight, Ranma let out his breath, his heart pounding.

"You're welcome," Nabiki smirked as she flipped another page. "Though it wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be true, knowing Happosai."

Any other person would've deserved a grateful 'thank you' for helping Ranma out of that mess, but he knew Nabiki all too well.

"How much does that cost me?"

Nabiki closed the magazine and scratched her chin in mock-thought.

"Let's see…one life-saving distraction…lying to a family member, that's a bit extra…using Happosai as a fall guy gets you a bit of a discount…I'd say 1500 yen would suffice."

Ranma quickly forked over the cash with a bitter taste in his mouth As Kasumi wordlessly shook her head with amusement.

"Mercenary," He grumbled as he hurried toward the door. With Akane distracted, he could be halfway to Ucchan's before his dim-witted fiancé figured out the scam.

"Our doors are always open…" Nabiki mumbled in reply as she casually continued on with her magazine.

* * *

This was not what he expected. 

Piccolo had arrived in Tokyo during the late morning hours, and it hadn't taken him long to realize that he'd arrived in a land far different from his own. While he had limited experience traveling through the industrialized human settlements surrounding his familiar valleys, Tokyo had proven itself far more chaotic than even the Capsule cities that his comrades inhabited. Piccolo had been chagrined by the sheer volume of monotonously-shaped skyscrapers and lesser square-shaped structures that comprised Tokyo; they seemed to stretch the length of a mountain range across the landscape. As the Namek had gone about searching for his prize, he'd felt as though he was swimming in a never-ending ocean of industry – every area around him looked the same with no stand-out features, and he nearly felt like he was suffocating from the overburden of steel, brick, and tile that had been forced upon him. The humans of this land lived in such cramped, cluttered areas that Piccolo had to wonder how they could retain their sanity as they went about their daily activities.

This had likely been what Sailor Neptune had been chiding him about, and if she'd been present, she'd be relishing in the evident discomfort that the Namek was experiencing at the moment.

However, aside from the physical and mental discomfort that the city provided, it had also made it difficult to track the missing Dragonball. Tokyo was easily the size of two Capsule cities, perhaps greater, and the tightly cramped spaces and massive quantity of humans inhabiting the metropolis meant that anybody could've come across the Dragonball and claimed it for their own – his day-long search of Tokyo had turned up absolutely nothing, and the sun was beginning to set, much to his dismay.

While an ordinary human likely wouldn't have known the secret of the mystical relic, they could've easily thrown it carelessly into an unimportant corner of a room, leaving it to collect dust while it could've been restoring the lives of the Sailor Soldiers lost in the future war…

Piccolo considered his options as he pushed past a pair of leisurely humans on the narrow sidewalk. Both of them shot him a mystified, nearly frightened gaze as they quickly moved away from him. That had also been a running theme of his search today – most of the humans he'd approached for information had sharply changed direction to avoid him or had briskly pointed him off in a random direction, leading the Namek on several wild goose chases all over town.

He supposed that a logical course of action would be to rendezvous with Sailor Neptune and retrieve the Dragon Radar…but that came with its own price. Aside from the enormous waste of time it would've been to track her down, bring the radar back to Tokyo, and scan the entire city with it, she would likely never let him live down the fact that he'd needed her help; it implied that he couldn't handle the stress of such a strange environment and that he couldn't adapt quickly enough to the circumstances. The elegant princess already possessed enough sly verbosity about her – Piccolo hardly needed to add to her ammunition…

As he passed by a small restaurant, he stopped in his tracks as a lanky young boy in a red silk shirt cut him off, nearly crashing into him as he rushed headlong into the quaint-looking establishment. Piccolo snorted – at least the boy hadn't passed him any strange glances. He'd gotten more than his fair share during the fruitless search.

The streets were beginning to empty, the humans retiring to their homes and closing their businesses for the day. It could've been a good or bad change – he would be safe to search the length of the city without any prying eyes as the people slept during the night, but depending on where the Dragonball was hidden, it could've limited his search options.

He stopped in his tracks momentarily, considering that thought…who said he needed to be secretive about his search methods? It wasn't as if he couldn't go through steel and brick walls if it meant covering some extra ground…

_I hope you're not going to consider what I think you're considering…_

The sudden intrusion into the Namek's mind stunned him momentarily, but that shock dissolved into rage as he recognized the voice's origin.

"And just how long have you been watching me, old man?" He growled at the thin air. It didn't matter – Kami still heard him loud and clear. "I suppose you're enjoying the show, watching me fumble about like a child in this place? How can you lord over such backwards-thinking cretins? They can hardly turn around, much less pay homage to a Guardian."

_I admit that Tokyo isn't exactly the best example of humanity, but it does have its goodness and wonders…_ Kami's wizened voice replied. _And I do have a right to be concerned about your behavior among my subjects down there…_

"The rights of these people are a luxury right now," Piccolo snapped. "Centuries from now, this world will be dying under the grip of that army in Crystal Tokyo. Without the Dragonballs, we cannot make progress against our enemies – I'm going to do whatever it takes to find the one hidden here, even if it means circumventing the 'rights' of these creatures."

_I would advise against that…_ Kami's voice turned almost deadly serious at Piccolo's decree; the Namek warrior was surprised at the old man's defiance. _Time is on our side at this point, and retrieving that Dragonball should not and will not be done at the expense of my people's lives._

Piccolo was growing irritated at Kami's persistence.

"We can wish them back at some point in the future if sentiment demands it; damn you, old man, bigger things are at stake than these worthless fools!"

_When last I checked, I was Guardian of this world, not you. Let me be the judge of that._ Kami spat, causing Piccolo to grind his teeth bitterly. He couldn't remember his counterpart acting so stubborn in recent memory; he realized that it shouldn't have surprised him. After all, Kami had at one point been willing to kill himself just so Piccolo would die with him and his 'people' would be safe from the monstrous demon lord that the Namek had been at that time.

"I assumed you were responsible for safeguarding every human life, past, present, or future," Piccolo retorted. "For all you know, such a delay could cost us more human lives in Crystal Tokyo. Or is that their king's problem? After all, why should you worry about creatures outside your dominion? It appears that even the most 'benevolent' soul of this world still has his prejudices…"

_Such tact will get you nowhere…_ Kami replied slowly. _And just so you know, should you pursue a course of action that brings harm to the humans living in Tokyo, I shall wash my hands of my part in the Dragonball plan._

Piccolo's eyes widened, his temper flaring.

"Are you…blackmailing me?" He fumed, his energy rising. "I can't believe you'd be so petty, especially at a time like this!"

_I will not be an accomplice to the harm or murder of innocents. You'll need my presence in the future Earth for the Dragonballs to work, and I will refuse to aid you if you follow such a rash path of destruction for something that can be obtained through peaceful means._

Piccolo felt the need to destroy something; being scolded by the old man was the worst insult he could possibly receive.

"When this is over…"

_Calm yourself already – I have my intuition, and I think you'll find your way just fine if you stay where you are…_

"'Stay where I am?'" Piccolo repeated, confused. "What do you mean by that! Old man!"

But the mental presence was gone – Kami had retreated back to his lavish palace, leaving Piccolo to do the grunt work below with a new set of restrictions levied on him. The Namek wanted to scream in fury – Kami couldn't have made a more asinine decree. How could he possibly know how much time was on their side…

His musings were interrupted by the sounds of crashing and shouting in the small restaurant behind him. Piccolo grumbled lowly and continued on his way up the sidewalk, amazed that the old Guardian could ever stomach ruling over such a populace, let alone choosing to protect them over the heralds of the future era. If Piccolo ever took over the world, this quagmire of a city would be the first to go, out of spite if nothing else.

He proceeded a small distance further, still lost in his thoughts as to how to best conduct his search now that the option of violence had been eliminated. He barely registered that the same pig-tailed boy that had cut him off to enter the restaurant earlier was charging right by him at top speed, again completely oblivious of his existence. How comforting.

His head was beginning to ache from his frustrations, and as a young girl's enraged voice cried out in his direction, he could only feel the pain worsening from the noise.

"Ranma, you jackass! How could you! Get back here!"

Piccolo continued walking, mumbling an obscenity to himself about his current predicament. His frustration was so great that he barely heard the voice's next comment – a cry of warning to move. The sudden urgency of the voice was what grabbed his attention, and as Piccolo turned his head around, he didn't even have time to react as a solid metal object crashed against his face. Stunned and completely caught off-guard by the force of the object, Piccolo fell over.

* * *

_Oh, no! I was aiming for Ranma!_

Despite her burning rage toward her fiancé at the moment, the young girl still hurried over to the innocent bystander that had been blasted by her gigantic spatula. The implement had caught the man flush in the face, bowling him over onto the ground in a dazed heap.

As Ukyo reached the man and attempted to help him up, she found herself staring face-to-face with the strangest-looking person she'd ever seen. The bystander didn't even resemble anything human – instead of skin, his exterior was a deep green, like a lizard, and there were spongy patches of flesh up and down his bare arms. While the man was still stunned and uncoordinated from the spatula hit, Ukyo saw that he possessed sharp, charcoal-black eyes and a set of pearl-white fangs.

Even his clothes were alien – beneath the snow-white cloak and shoulder guards, he wore a loose-fitting purple gi with a pair of flesh-colored shoes. Atop his round head was a purple turban entwined in white cloth. The first thought Ukyo had about this man, other than the fact that his skull appeared undamaged from the impact of her spatula, was that he certainly was from somewhere far out of town.

"I-I'm sorry…" She stammered as she attempted to put the man's physical appearance aside – she had still injured him, even if it was by accident, and she owed him an apology. The man massaged his chiseled face with a large hand; Ukyo gasped at the sight of claws on his fingers. "I guess I kinda lost my temper. I was aiming at my fiancé, but he was too fast and you were in the way and…"

She realized she was babbling, but she didn't have a chance to correct herself as the man growled like some kind of enraged animal, rising to his full height and shaking off the last vestiges of grogginess. Ukyo shrunk away; she was pretty tall for her age – it gave her an almost masculine quality, something she disliked – but she only stood as high as the odd-looking man's chest.

Before she could say any more, he whirled at her with a venomous roar, advancing on her. Ukyo was struck paralyzed by the man's monstrous gaze, the black eyes boring through her in an instant.

"Why, you…!" Ukyo was backed against the wall of her restaurant as the man raised one clawed hand. She froze and screamed, terrified that he was going to attack her.

But the man stopped in his tracks, blinking at her and catching his breath. She could feel herself trembling as the cloaked man backed away, lowering his clawed arm. Glancing around, Ukyo noticed that the scene had attracted a few bystanders, and the man was looking quite skittish as the passers-by regarded him with suspicion and shock – after all, he'd just nearly assaulted a girl half his size.

"It's fine, it's nothing!" Ukyo held up her hands, urging the bystanders to move on; thankfully, they were content to do so.

"I'm…sorry…" The man's voice was deep, nearly guttural, but he had backed away, giving her room to move away from the wall. "It seems we both lost our tempers. I meant no offense."

"Err, think nothing of it…" Ukyo passed the man a sheepish grin as she recovered her spatula. She gasped as she noticed the facial imprint of the cloaked man on the middle of the implement; sometimes, she forgot her own strength, especially when she got angry. She was even more amazed that the man's face was intact. He rubbed his jaw, stretching it and testing out some of his cheekbones. "Let me make it up to you – an okonomiyaki, on the house?"

"Oko…what?" He blinked in confusion.

"My restaurant," She motioned to the sign above the building. "I'm an okonomiyaki chef. You can have your pick of anything in exchange for the trouble."

The man blinked a bit more, as if he were pondering something.

"'Stay where I am…'" He said absently with an amused smirk. "I mean, thank you; I think I will take you up on that offer."

* * *

His face ached and a more potent headache was setting in, but Piccolo found himself actually relaxing a bit inside the simple restaurant. Aside from following the old Guardian's advice and letting this chance encounter play itself out, it was admittedly nice to take a breather from the chase; doing so would've made him more capable of keeping his thoughts and a solid plan during the future hours of the Dragonball hunt.

As he filled himself with an amber-colored drink that his hostess had offered while she cooked his free consolation meal, Piccolo was still intrigued by her brute strength. Not many people could knock him off his feet, even if it was the result of an accidental surprise attack; her raging strike and seemingly masculine attitude reminded Piccolo of the women his comrades associated themselves with...

While the Namek had helped himself to the bottle of spirit, the girl had introduced herself as the proprietor of the business, having set up shop in Tokyo months before to be closer to her fiancé.

He did find it remarkable that the girl owned and ran the establishment all by herself – most humans, from his knowledge, hadn't progressed so far at that point in life. What exactly a 'fiancé' was, she seemed to take it very seriously; Piccolo was unfamiliar with the term.

The conversation had been one-sided and overly cheery at first; she was likely attempting to get him into a better mood and deflect annoyance from the recent 'accident' outside. Piccolo was hardly fond of idle chatter, and his recent frustrations had further reinforced that sentiment. He'd only told her, albeit politely, his drink preference and to surprise him with the meal choice.

The girl, Ukyo, hadn't seemed to mind his silence too much; she seemed far too mesmerized by her cooking to take offense to his attitude. It was fascinating to watch her painstaking efforts to perfect the delicacy-in-progress – he imagined it was that 'okonomiyaki' she'd mentioned earlier. She seemed as focused on the preparation of the food as Piccolo would've been on an opponent during a fight. He did admit that the dish was giving off a pleasant aroma, and even though he did not need to consume food in order to survive, he was certain that his stomach could handle the delicacy.

As he drained a third glass in as many minutes of his drink, Ukyo glanced up in astonishment.

"This is very tasty," He attempted to be polite as he poured himself another full glass out of the bottle. It was strange – the more he consumed the tangy spirit, the more his anxiety and rigidity seemed to lighten. He couldn't remember when he felt so suddenly inclined to converse with anybody. "Do people drink it often?"

Ukyo chuckled.

"Most people don't make it past three glasses of sake in less than five minutes. You must be experienced at drinking that sort of stuff."

"My first time," Piccolo replied, at which Ukyo shook her head in bewilderment. He didn't understand why, but he did notice that his headache seemed to lessen and his muscles seemed to relax as more liquid disappeared down his throat. As he refilled again, he noticed that the two of them weren't alone in the restaurant after all – a muscular human boy was collapsed in a heap over in the corner, his muscles not moving. From the tattered shirt and bruised eye, Piccolo guessed that he'd been attacked by somebody and knocked unconscious.

"Was there a fight in here recently?" Piccolo motioned to the young man, and Ukyo scowled.

"He was the one my fiancé was fighting with…" She grumbled as she poured some sauce on the fried dough. "He showed up right at the same time my fiancé did, and all hell broke loose. Ryoga over there got the worst of it…It had to be tonight…they ruined the entire evening I had in mind…"

Piccolo frowned as Ukyo continued to bicker to herself – there had been a brawl, and his senses had not detected it? Kami had distracted him more than the Namek had imagined. But perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, his face wouldn't be throbbing right now…

One curiosity had been answered though – this fiancé was a person, probably someone close with such an elegant-sounding title.

As Piccolo drained another glass, Ukyo glanced up, her rage passing.

"Anyway…if you don't mind my asking, are you from out of town? I feel like I've seen you before somewhere, mister…uh…"

Piccolo froze a bit, gently setting his glass down; Ukyo was asking for a name, and the Namek had an idea of where the girl's latent familiarity with him had come from – she might've recognized his hardened visage from the Tenkachi Budokai tournament over six years ago when he faced down Son Goku. Piccolo's face had been plastered all over the human media, and he'd been connected to his predecessor, one of the greatest demon lords ever to terrorize the human race. If he revealed his true name, it could've completed the connection for Ukyo and ignited trouble between him and the Tokyo humans. Considering Kami's recent ground rules, such a conflict would've been a catastrophe, especially if he was forced to defend himself against a fear-stricken mob looking to defend their city from a vengeful demon.

"Well, my name is…" He smiled; with the thought of the Tenkachi Budokai fresh in his mind, a small bit of irony occurred to him. If Kami saw fit to play games with Piccolo, he would play right along. "My name is Shen. And you're right, I am from a land far from this place. If you're wondering why I seem a bit…out of touch with the customs of this city, it's because I generally live in the countryside of my land. I'm a bit more simplistic about things."

Ukyo completed her work, serving the okonomiyaki to her guest and listening with fascination.

"Really? Wow…I've always wanted to start up my own business in the country someday," She smiled. "Do you think there'd be a market for okonomiyaki out that far?"

Before Ukyo could hand Piccolo any silverware, the Namek had grabbed up the food with one hand, taking a large bite out of the crispy, flavorful dough. Two bites later, the morsel had disappeared except for a few gobs of sauce on Piccolo's bare arm. Ukyo coughed, slipping the silverware away.

Piccolo gauged the taste of the delicacy; it was partially sweet, and it reminded him of a boiled fruit…Gohan would enjoy it…his father would as well, if Piccolo knew Goku's tendencies.

"I can say this," He reported. "I know of a single family that could live off of these for the rest of their lives. You'd be rich in a matter of days if you kept up with them."

"Really?" She was impressed. "If only that were true – me and my Ranma honey, we'd live like royalty…"

"You think that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not," Piccolo poured himself another drink. "And, if _I_ may ask, who is this Ranma?"

Ukyo reddened slightly, her mind obviously drifting to thoughts that Piccolo wanted no elaboration upon.

"Well, he's my fiancé, the one that ran by you before I…ran_ into_ you. I guess he can be a pain sometimes, but I'd be afraid to wonder about life without him…" She clarified, answering Piccolo earlier question completely but thoroughly unsettling him with her amorous words.

From the dreamy look that overcame her when Piccolo mentioned his name, he gathered that this Ranma was Ukyo's 'fiancé,' or betrothed if his deduction was correct. As he observed Ukyo blushing, nearly swooning over Ranma, he remembered that Goku's woman had acted similarly toward him during the Tenkachi Budokai all those years ago, battling him fiercely in a tournament match before endearing herself to him. As Piccolo thought more about it, Yamcha's woman could be grouped into that same category of temporary insanity whenever she was involved with her mate, perhaps to an even greater degree from what Piccolo knew of her. And he had also once heard Tenshinhan speaking briefly – in a very awkward and uncomfortable tone – of a psychotic woman who'd been enamored with him for years, even without the warrior returning the affection…

It seemed like a solid conclusion to a strange curiosity – gauging the similarities, it seemed that human women lost their senses around their potential mates, which might've explained Ukyo's agitation toward her fleeing fiancé during their initial meeting. Piccolo suddenly felt like breathing a grateful sigh of relief that Nameks had no biological partners – there would never be a need for him to deal with such chaos…

Unless, of course, he considered the mock-affections of Sailor Neptune. Perhaps the idea of an impassioned female was what made him so uncomfortable with her playful flirting toward him. He just couldn't stomach the idea of being in thrall to such a relationship for an entire lifetime, especially with a partner that lost sanity because of the lunacy of 'love'…

"But what exactly brings you here?" Ukyo wondered, drawing Piccolo back into reality. He could internally debate the mystery of the human psyche when time permitted; as it was, he felt embarrassed that he'd strayed from the task at hand.

But as he finished off another glass of sake, he hesitated a bit – he obviously couldn't be truthful about his motives for finding the Dragonball. While saying that he wanted to resurrect five lost warriors to help fight a war in a future era of Earth would've been laughable to most humans, Ukyo had proven more inquisitive and indulgent than most other members of her race. Having her know about his mission was one thing, but revealing the secret of the mystical orbs could've led to more trouble; the fewer fallible humans that knew about the god-like power of the Dragonballs, the better.

But still, the mere appearance of a treasure like that could leave an indelible impression on a creature, even if its powers were unknown to them. Piccolo could remember the first time his predecessor had gazed upon the Dragonballs. Of all the memories Daimou had passed on to him, that one stuck with him almost greater than any.

He took in a breath, picking his words carefully and deliberately.

"…In my homeland," He began as Ukyo's gaze was transfixed on the Namek. "…I'm a collector of rare and invaluable artifacts…one of which has found its way to this city, though I do not know where…"

Ukyo was drawn in by the enigmatic build-up Piccolo had given to the Dragonball – the more mystique he lent the prize, the more willing Ukyo may've been to help him find it.

"What does it look like?" She wondered.

Piccolo smirked; he made an elaborate gesture with his hands, acting as if he was holding a prized crystal ball.

"It's a small orb, about the size of a fist," He explained, speaking slowly and with a guarded effervescence. The more enthusiasm he lent the Dragonball, the more spectacular and tantalizing it would appear. "It's golden on the surface, as brilliant as the Sun. Its sheen is perfect, without a crack or a blemish anywhere on it. And in the middle, there is a collection of ruby-colored stars; it's worth more than any material in this land. From what I understand, it dates back a number of ages."

"Now, you being an entrepreneur of a place like this…" Piccolo continued as Ukyo listened; his acting had nearly put her in a trance. "You must see quite a variety of people passing through here during the day. A lot of people might show off such an exquisite treasure…I don't suppose you've seen anything like what I described to you?"

Ukyo paused momentarily, scratching her chin as Piccolo held his breath. This could've been the lucky break he'd needed since his arrival in Tokyo.

However, after half a minute of pondering, Ukyo woefully shook her head.

"Sorry…I'd remember something as beautiful-looking as that if any of my customers ever showed it off. Considering some of the people that come in here, there would've been a fight over it if it's that valuable."

"I see…" Piccolo was crestfallen; in reality, he supposed it was wishful thinking that the first person he'd met would have the Dragonball gift-wrapped for him.

"But I think I can point you in the right direction," She lit up all of a sudden, her eyes brightening as Piccolo kept his expression guarded – he'd taken several false leads already today, and he wasn't in the mood for another, even if Ukyo was well-meaning. "There's another café a few blocks over from me; the old woman who runs it is ancient beyond belief. If you tell her what you told me about this being a treasure that goes back so many years, I'm sure she'll at least know what you're talking about."

Piccolo considered it for a few moments; no human he knew could've been as old as the Dragonballs, except maybe for that strange old fortune teller that sometimes showed up around Goku…

"Could anybody be that old?"

"You think that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not," Ukyo chuckled, echoing his words from earlier with a small imitation of his voice. "Her name's Cologne, and the place is called the Cat Café. It's probably your best shot."

Piccolo mulled it over as he finished off the bottle of sake; there weren't any guarantees, but it would've been better than aimlessly wandering Tokyo for hours on end.

As he downed the final glass, he smiled toward Ukyo.

"Show me."


End file.
